It’s RTMC policy to check in on people when we have to intercede, so I went to the twink’s table and asked if everyone was okay.
“Thanks to you, we’re just fine, big daddy. Can I buy you a drink?”
I wanted to pick him up and adjust him in my lap once I’d taken his seat, but I couldn’t. I touched one of the girls on the back of her arm. “Let me see your hand, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay.” She lifted it, and I saw red knuckles with a touch of swelling, but if her hand hurt, she wasn’t showing it. She’d popped the guy a good one to keep him away from her friend. I turned to Gonzo at the bar — he’d wait until the third night of the full moon so he could run with his wife. “Drinks on the house for the girlie, since she did part of my job for me before I could get to them.”
I looked at the twink, our gazes locked, and he knew. He’d already guessed, but now he was certain. I saw the smug look and the extra sparkle in his eyes, and my heart sank. I didn’t need this right now.
First things first though. I ignored his flirting and said, “I saw the kidney punch. This isn’t the time to play it cool. You okay?” He’d deflected most of the hits to his face — the rednecks had been sloppy with their punches. His kidney had taken two solid hits, though. His hand was a little scuffed from landing his own punches, but I didn’t comment on it.
Viper moved behind us and said what I’d known from the kid’s expression.
“No, he’s hurting.” Viper could smell his pain.
“Right.” I stepped back so I was beside Viper. “I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen my share of fighting injuries. I can take you to the office and look it over for you. Figure out if it’s ribs or kidneys. Get you some ice.”
Viper snorted. “Razor used to be a paramedic. Go with him, kid. Let him look you over.”
As soon as the door closed and the sounds of the bar faded, the kid touched the center of my chest, cocked his hip out, and said, “You’re in the closet, Papa Bear.”
I sighed, pushed the hidden button in the doorframe to make sure we weren’t being watched or recorded by the control room, put my hands on the boy’s shoulders, and turned him towards the center of the room. “Just for a few more weeks. I’m new to town. Wanted to let them get to know me before I told them. Take the jacket and shirt off. What’s your name?”
“Matty.” He winced when he pulled the jacket off, and I helped him with his shirt so he didn’t have to lift his arms.
“Short for Matthew?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“None of that outside this room, boy. Not even once I’m outta the closet. How old are you?”
I poked around on his back, watched the muscles, saw the way the blood flow changed. I cataloged things a human would never be able to spot. It’d made me a good paramedic, before I’d joined the RTMC. The straight line of the chair’s back probably had his bottom ribs a little tender, and the punch had hit his kidney. Neither was too bad, but both of them together more than explained the wince when he’d twisted to take his jacket off.
“Twenty-three. About to graduate college.”
“What’re you majoring in?”
“Interior design, with a minor in graphic design.”
Kid was hitting all the stereotypes.
“You got a job?”
“Two of ‘em. I work at an advertising company and help out with their graphics after school during the week, and I work at a furniture store on the weekend.”
“Kidney took a hit, but it isn’t likely bad enough you need a doc.” I met his gaze and let him see I meant business. “Any back or abdominal pain, blood in your piss, nausea, difficulty pissing, fever, or anything not right — you get to a doctor. Understood?”
He nodded, and I pulled my wallet out, retrieved a business card, and stuck it in his front pocket. “My personal email is the first part of the one on this card, but at gmail. Email me there, not at the one on the card. No phone calls, no texts to this number. It’s just for club business. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I helped him with his shirt and jacket. “You’ll be tender tomorrow, but it shouldn’t hurt worse than now. If it